


when a man loves a woman

by vivilove



Series: Tattoos & Scars [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ex-con Jon, F/M, Fluffy as hell, Love Confessions, and a motorcycle ride, but with language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:02:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23670517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove
Summary: “You got any more surprises up your sleeve tonight?” she asks with her hand slipping under his tee.He can feel her fingers lightly tugging on the hair around his navel. It’s getting him worked up but he really needs to say this before he loses his nerve. She was brave for him this morning, she spoke up for him. It’s time he’s brave and admits the way he feels. Sansa deserves the truth and nothing less.“Just one more.”
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: Tattoos & Scars [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660783
Comments: 68
Kudos: 170





	when a man loves a woman

**Author's Note:**

> You guys have been so lovely and supportive about this series and I really appreciate it! I've decided keeping these shorter works best for my scattered wits lately so there's two more planned parts after this one.
> 
> And FYI-all my motorcycle terminology is thanks to the internet so if it's not correct, oh well :)

There are days when Jon wonders why Mance doesn’t have Tormund fitted with a muzzle. The big guy means well. Hell, he’s the friendliest of the bunch here at the shop. But does he have to needle him about Sansa this way?

_Well, you’re the dipshit who was whistling earlier._

That old fart radio station that Mance always has cranking in the shop plays golden oldies this time of day, stuff Jon’s grandparents might’ve necked to. He doesn’t know. Fuck it, he doesn’t want to know about that.

But apparently, Tormund knows these songs by heart.

_“When a man loves a woman,_

_Can’t keep his mind on nothin’ else_

_He’d change the world for the good thing he’s found…”_

He’s waggling those bushy eyebrows of his and giving Jon the leer as he croons off-key into a muffler like it’s a microphone. Jon should tell him to fuck off. Instead, his face is on fire. He’s trying really hard not to start grinning like an idiot, too.

_“If she is bad, he can’t see it_

_She can do no wrong_

_Turn his back on his best friend if he put her down…”_

Sansa is _not_ bad. Not one bit. If anyone in their relationship could be labeled as bad, it’s definitely Jon. As for turning his back on his best friend…

_You’ve got me there._

He doesn’t know what him and Robb are anymore after this morning. He can’t think too hard about it either. That shit hurt and it’s not healing anytime soon. Of course, he’s still so damn shook by Sansa defending him, tearing her big brother a new one like a savage she-wolf, that he’s not as melancholy as he might be otherwise.

“Leave the boy be, Tormund,” Mance says as he passes through which only makes Jon’s face feel hotter.

He is _not_ a boy. He’s twenty-four and supporting himself to the best of his ability. He’s done time. No, he’s not proud of that part but anyone who walks into the joint as a boy is sure as fuck walking out a man in some sense if he’s walking out of there at all.

The bell above the shop door jingles right as he’s shucking off his coveralls. He’s already punched the clock and he ignores Tormund’s bellowing laughter as he sprints towards the door. It’s 5 o’clock and his baby’s picking him up.

But, Dalla’s there and she’s always eager to gab with Sansa. Jon has anticipated this. Thus, the sprint to the door. He can probably spin her around and head them directly back out into the parking lot. They can surely escape before…

“Sansa!”

“Hello, Dalla!”

So much for the great escape.

Fifteen minutes creep by. Fifteen minutes where he could be _alone_ with Sansa and fifteen _more_ minutes at work when he’s already done for the day.

_I mean, I have spent extra time here when I’ve been closing up shop._

_Yeah, to fuck Sansa on Mance’s leather couch._

He guiltily tugs at the collar of his tee as Mance and Dalla are all smiles chatting with Sansa. It’d be in his best interest if Mance never finds out about that. He likes his job. He likes breathing, too.

Sansa’s amazing the way she can talk to anyone. Old or young, rich or poor, she just knows how to put people at ease if they’re even half-way friendly towards her. Jon wishes he had that ability. He usually stands back with a scowl and his arms crossed, even around his sort of crowd and people he knows well. Maybe that comes from too many years of feeling like people have already made up their minds about him.

Mance is a grizzled old ex-con with more pages to his rap sheet than teeth in his mouth. He’s hard as nails even after going straight twenty years ago. His conversation’s not terribly riveting and his manners wouldn’t recommend him most places outside of a tattoo parlor or lower-end biker bar but, if a guy knows his shit when it comes to motorcycles, he’ll hire you straight out of the joint with only a few exceptions.

Jon knows Mance likes Sansa, knows that his already surprisingly good opinion of Jon has only risen since Sansa started coming around. He wonders what Mance would say if Jon told him there was some fucking twat out there that had hurt her, that Jon would like to introduce to the business end of a baseball bat maybe. Would he remind him of his parole and everything he could lose if he acted on those feelings? Or would he grab the nearest tire iron and join him?

He’s not going to find out though. His lips are zipped about that. She’d shared that with Jon in confidence while lying in his bed and in his arms. He won’t go gabbing about it around the shop. And he still intends to honor her wishes and forget about the guy…the guy named Joffrey. Well, he’ll _try_ to forget about him. Except he won’t. But he’ll leave him be. That is, as long as old Joffrey stays the fuck away and leaves _her_ be. Otherwise…

The ladies finish exchanging their pleasantries and Jon has managed not to pull his hair out from waiting to have Sansa all to himself at last. _Patience of a saint, right here._

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jon. You kids have fun tonight.”

Jon resists the urge to roll his eyes at Mance’s parting words. To Mance, they are kids. And he doesn’t want to piss off the boss…especially considering he’s the first boss Jon’s had who actually seems to like him. _Even if I did spend half my shift whistling like a dipshit._

As soon as they’re outside, he pulls her to him. She gasps and places a hand on his chest but there’s no push, no resistance. She doesn’t mind him pulling her close. That’s good because he’s missed her all day. It’s been eight and a half hours since he saw her. Eight and half hours since Robb came over and…he’d rather not think about that part.

But honestly, he’s a little scared being this gone for her. Even as a brooding, lonely, hormone-addled, pot-smoking teenager, he’s never been this far gone for a girl.

He sees that canker face Varamyr rolling his eyes at them. He casually flips him off behind her back. Sansa’s nice to everyone at the shop and probably wouldn’t approve. Varamyr returns the favor before climbing into that piece of shit he drives and peeling out of the parking lot.

Sansa doesn’t notice because he’s kissing her neck now, right at that sweet spot under her ear that makes her giggle. She presses herself up against him. The giggle’s followed by a breathy moan. The hand she had at his chest has dropped to his hip.

“Are we going back to yours?” she asks, a needy little whine with her bright blue eyes a few shades darker, just the way he likes seeing them.

“Not yet. I’ve got some plans for us.”

“What kind of plans?” It’s more like a dreamy sigh the way she asks and he can tell she’d probably agree to just about anything he suggested.

“You’ll see. What’d you do today?” _Besides defending me to your brother._

“This and that. Mostly, that.”

“Sounds thrilling. What else?”

She laughs and knocks her shoulder into his. “I got together with Jeyne and Beth.”

“Yeah? They let you practice your henna?”

“They did.”

He loves that smile on her face. She’s enjoying the henna thing. It makes her happy and that makes Jon happy.

She’s admitted she’s feeling a little lost. She dropped out of college mid-year and she doesn’t have a job. She’s back at home with her mom and little brothers but not all that content there.

Mrs. Stark love her kids. She loves them fiercely, Jon knows, but she’s developed a case of Smother Mother lately by the sounds of things since the three oldest have left the nest. Therefore, Sansa likes being at his place where she doesn’t feel watched, doesn’t feel judged.

 _“A twenty-one-year-old failure,”_ she’d said with a frown the other night.

 _“You’re no failure,”_ he’d assured her. _That’s me_. He didn’t say that part. She didn’t like him saying or thinking things like that. “ _You’ve signed up for those classes. You’re going to get it all figured out, baby. Come here.”_

She will get it all figured out. He knows it.

He also knows that Sansa loves sitting in his lap with his hands between her knees while they kiss slow and deep. He’d chased her frown away. And it’s hard to feel like a failure himself when he can do that.

“You got a new one somewhere?” he asks, touching the fading wolf he’d stenciled on her wrist.

“Maybe.” He cocks an eyebrow and looks her up and down. “You’ll have to find it though,” she teases.

“Challenge accepted…later.” He wraps an arm around her as he guides her towards Surprise #1.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

They turn the corner and he opens the door of the shed where Mance’s stowing it. He makes a gesture like one of those models on a gameshow showing off a prize before quickly dropping his arm, embarrassed.

“It’s nothing special but it’ll be mine before long.”

He spares her the details but it’s a nine-year old Kawasaki with plenty of pep in its 1000 cc’s and painted matte black. He’s already corrected the throttle that liked to stick. There’s some cosmetic damage on the left side fairings left to fix. The tires could stand replacing as well but otherwise, it’s a sweet ride. Mance says he’ll let him have it for a song. He’s 99.9% sure Mance doesn’t want to hear him sing so he’s socking away every spare dime for it.

She pulls her hands up to her mouth, her eyes dancing with delight. “It’s fantastic!”

“It still needs work,” he demurs. _And I still need the cash to buy it._ He can’t quite help lovingly trailing two fingers across the seat. “You got your coat in the car?”

“Yes…wait. Are you going to take me for a ride?”

“If you want.”

She bites at her plump bottom lip and he knows she’s tempted even if part of her is nervous. “You got a helmet for me?”

He grins and digs out the two he’d stashed back here earlier. It’s not his yet officially but he’d asked Mance and he’d told him to take her for a spin.

He’s tugging on his old leather jacket when she returns with her navy blue coat. He carefully places the helmet on her head. “Gotta protect that sweet noggin.” He can see her grinning from ear to ear as he helps her with the strap.

He straddles the bike, turning the engine on, letting it purr for him. He puts his own helmet on and jerks his chin over his shoulder since she’s still standing there.

She’s biting at her lip again.

“Nervous?”

“A little,” she shouts over the sound of the motor. He tilts his head to the side, raising an eyebrow. “Okay, a lot.”

He does his best to hide his smile. She sees it anyway and pokes him in the ribs.

“Hey! What was that for?” He’s doing his damnedest to sound stern and not start chuckling at the expression on her face.

“No smiling at me being nervous,” she tells him.

He’s the one biting at his lip now to keep from laughing. She makes him want to laugh so much in the best way. He can’t remember ever feeling so happy inside, not since he was a kid maybe.

“Come on. I’ll go slow for you.”

“Not too slow, I hope,” she says with a devilish look that stirs him.

“Slow enough to not scare you then.” He’s already promised her and promised himself he’ll never scare her. “I want to show you something.”

“What?”

“Can’t tell. It’s a secret.”

Intrigued, she climbs on behind him. He directs her where to place her feet and tells her to hold on. Sansa’s arms are wrapped around him. The engine’s vibrating between his legs. He’s about to shout he’s the king of the world or some bullshit.

The breeze is blowing and a strand of red hair teases his cheek where she’s holding him so tight, her helmet against his. She might be trembling a little or maybe that’s just the vibrations. He can feel her hands gripping his waist.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he says whether she needs to hear it or not.

He pulls the clutch, shifts to first before slowing releasing the clutch and then gently twists the throttle. And they’re off…just not too fast.

* * *

“What’d you think?”

“It was amazing,” she says as they remove their helmets. It was. Really fucking amazing as far as Jon’s concerned and he’s hoping she’ll be willing to ride with him some more. "I can see why you love it."

"Yeah?"

"It's like...freedom." But her smile fades and her brow furrows. "Sorry. That probably sounds stupid coming from me when you..."

"No, not stupid. Nothing you say is stupid." Her smile flickers back to life. But, she's not wrong about how it feels like freedom. After time inside, it does feel even better maybe. It's sweeter than any wine getting out on the road and just going where it leads you. 

“This is beautiful,” she sighs as they gaze at the little green valley below.

It’s not that far out of town but not many people know about it. Maybe because it’s only easily accessible on foot or bike. Or maybe because the abandoned uranium plant’s on the other side of that hill and everything about that place says ‘go away.’

But down in that valley, there’s trees and a little waterfall. It’s peaceful to look at anyway. The steady pounding of the water below is reassuring somehow. He’s not too sure you’d want to wade in that water though. Might wind up growing some extra toes or something.

They climb off the bike and he can tell she’s a little stiff from the ride. It was only twenty minutes but it’s her first time and she’d been clinging to him awfully tight even going slow. He’ll be sure and work all that soreness out for her later.

He takes her hand and leads her to a nearby stump. He pulls her into his lap and brushes her hair back from her face.

“You liked the ride alright?” As soon as he says it, he’s grimacing. He’d already asked that, hadn’t he? He’s nervous. He tends to repeat shit when he’s nervous.

“I did,” she assures him.

She nuzzles into his neck and he starts kissing her, sucking on her pulse point. She wiggles in his lap which is all well and good but the stump’s not all that comfortable and he’s got a bed back at his place if she wants to wiggle on top of him.

Maybe she’s got the same idea. “You got any more surprises up your sleeve tonight?” she asks with her hand slipping under his tee.

He can feel her fingers lightly tugging on the hair around his navel. It’s getting him worked up but he really needs to say this before he loses his nerve. She was brave for him this morning, she spoke up for him. It’s time he’s brave and admits the way he feels. Sansa deserves the truth and nothing less.

“Just one more.”

“You making me dinner?” she teases. He’s already said he can’t cook worth a shit unless she wants him to pop open a can of ravioli.

“No, but we can go wherever you like.”

He brings her hand up to his mouth. He can’t resist her hands. They’re so soft and smaller than his. There’s a little staining around the fingernails though from her henna. Once upon a time, Sansa probably wouldn’t have liked that but now she doesn’t care. He never would’ve cared in the first place. He just likes that he can hold her hand and kiss it.

She nods, content to wait for her surprise but he can’t wait. He licks his lips and keeps his eyes locked on hers. It’s like that waterfall down below them is pouring on his head the way his pulse is pounding between his eardrums. All the same, he’d told himself he was going to say it.

“Hey, Sansa?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

He’s never said those words to another girl and meant them quite this way. Yeah, he’d said them to Ygritte years ago when he was all of sixteen but he’d also been high half the time back then. _And lost, so very lost._

He’s never felt…fuck. He’s never felt this. It’s powerful and it consumes him but it’s not that headstrong rush of teenage love. That shit’s pretty fickle anyway. This is deeper, steadier, stronger.

It feels like someone’s letting some of the air out of an overfilled tire just getting the words out. It’s a relief in a way even though he’s more nervous than ever. Those three little words have been building up inside of him for a while now even if part of him still can’t quite believe this is real. He had to say them all the same.

He’s also waiting on a reply and it’s a struggle to keep his eyes on her and not let them seek his boots.

She draws a breath and there’s that radiant smile he adores.

“I love you, too.”

Goddamn, his swelling up again like someone stuck the air hose back in. But it’s good, really good. His heart feels so full and he can’t stop grinning. He’ll probably catch bugs in his mouth from grinning like a fool the whole ride back to the shop.

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics from 'When a Man Loves a Woman'
> 
> No smut this time but the next part will include some as Jon and Sansa continue building their relationship before a meeting with Catelyn. Meanwhile, I promise I'll try and update my longer WIPs if I can get my focus to cooperate. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!!


End file.
